


The Hard Way Out

by sahiya



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Forgiveness, H/C bingo, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leaving when you've screwed up is easy. Jack screws up and stays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hard Way Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yamx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/gifts).



> This was written as a thank you to Yamx, who went far above and beyond for me recently. She requested Nine era OT3, in which Jack screws up (really screws up, not just a misunderstanding). I hope this fits the bill. I'm also using this for the "fall from grace" square on my H/C Bingo card.
> 
> Many thanks to Fuzzyboo for the beta!

There had been a time once - before the Doctor, before Rose, before the TARDIS - when Jack had been accustomed to waking in a strange bed nearly every morning. He'd been considered handsome and charming in just about any place and time, and he'd had no qualms about enjoying the perks of his situation. He still wouldn't, except - well, _except_.

Except Rose was from the twenty-first century, where monogamy was institutionalized in both the cultural and legal sense, and the Doctor was possessive. That meant that his current position, in a bed that wasn't his own, sandwiched between two lovely creatures of as yet undetermined species (though probably human or at least humanoid, based on body temperature and color), was much more of a problem than it would once have been.

 _Oh hell_ , was Jack's immediate thought on the matter. Followed shortly by, _Ow. What the hell did I_ do _last night?_

He lay very still for a moment, trying to find two brain cells to rub together despite the throbbing in his head. They'd gone out, he remembered, somewhere with a vibrant nightlife. They'd had dinner, and then Rose had wanted to go dancing. But he and the Doctor had had an argument - something about enhancing the temporal stabilizers on the TARDIS that’d started out friendly enough, until the Doctor had declared that stupid apes should stick to handing him spanners and leave the real work to those who actually understood transdimensional mathematics. Jack had told him where he could shove his spanners and stalked off. Off to a bar - no, a club, a much seedier club than Rose would've ever consented to. Someone - probably one or both of his current bed partners - had started buying him drinks, and after the first two or three, the cheap rot-gut hadn't even burned going down.

Extricating himself from the bed wasn't as hard as Jack had worried it might be. Both of his bed partners were dead to the world. Jack would've wondered if the three of them had actually managed to do anything last night, considering how inebriated they all must have been, but for the fact that certain parts of him were quite sore in ways that he usually enjoyed. But not this morning. _Goddammit, Harkness,_ he thought angrily as he searched the dim room for his clothes. _The best thing that's ever happened to your sorry self and you still manage to fuck it up._

He finally found his jeans and rooted through the pockets, hoping to find one of the magic anti-hangover pills he used to carry as a matter of course. But there weren't any. He hadn't needed them recently; there was no point to overindulging when your partners were all the drug you'd ever need.

He wrote his underwear off altogether, and pulled the jeans on over his bare skin. His shirt was crumpled in a corner, stained with something sticky and pink; he pulled it on over his head and crept out the door.

Outside, the city looked almost as hungover as Jack felt. What had been vibrant and fun by night was seedy and depressing by day. There wasn't a soul to be seen, just trashbots out picking up debris from the night before. Still, the fresh air cleared Jack's head a bit. He leaned against the side of a building to consult his vortex manipulator, glad he'd had the foresight to upload a map of the city to the device. The TARDIS was a little over three miles away. He sighed. Maybe on the way he'd find a store that was open and selling water.

No such luck. The entire city was locked up tight after its night of debauchery. There was the occasional autocab, but Jack didn't have enough credits for one. By the time he turned into the back alley where they'd parked the TARDIS, he was exhausted and his head was throbbing even worse than when he'd woken. He couldn't tell if the sick feeling in his stomach was from dehydration or anticipation. Probably both.

The TARDIS was still there, big and blue at the end of the alley. Jack let out a breath. He hadn't _really_ thought they'd leave him behind, not after everything - but he hadn't been completely sure. And what they would do once they realized where he'd been and what he'd done was another story altogether.

He let himself into the deserted console room. Jack mounted the steps and leaned briefly against the console. "Hey gorgeous," he murmured, and received a brief answering hum. It might've been his imagination, but he thought it wasn't quite as warm a greeting as usual. Jack sighed, gave the TARDIS one last pat, and trudged onward. First stop: medbay. Second stop: shower. Unless the Doctor was lying in wait for him in the medbay, in which case his second stop was likely to be some place uninhabitable.

The corridor was just as deserted as the console room. The ship was very quiet in general, and Jack wondered if maybe Rose and the Doctor had stayed out all night, too. It didn't seem likely; Rose always wanted her bed at the end of the night. If they had stayed out late, then she probably wasn't up yet, but that didn't explain the Doctor's absence. 

The medbay was also empty of all broody Time Lords. Sitting out on the counter were two tablets of hangover medication and a very large bottle of water. There was no note. Jack knew the TARDIS could've been responsible, but somehow he didn't think she was. He swallowed the tablets, drank all the water, and went in search of his room, a shower, and a change of clothes.

He stood in the shower a long time with the temp turned up as hot as he could stand, as though he could somehow scald away what he'd done. There was no one to blame this on but himself. He knew how hard it was for the Doctor and Rose to be in this relationship with him to begin with. Rose was bucking every cultural norm of her native place and time, and the Doctor . . . well, the Doctor didn't say much, but Jack suspected that he was, too. There'd been a lot of rumors and legends about Time Lords when Jack was a cadet at the Time Agency, and not a single one of them had ever involved a Time Lord mating with a member of a lower species. But they were making it work. Or at least, they had been, until Jack had gone and thrown it all away for a one night stand he couldn't even remember.

No one was waiting for him when he finally climbed out of the shower, his skin pink and sensitive. He put on boxers and a clean t-shirt and quite suddenly felt exhausted. He should go and find his partners, he thought. Just get it over with. But he didn't have the heart.

He lay down on his bed instead - the bed he'd slept in for his first few weeks on the TARDIS and then almost never again. He and the Doctor and Rose had a room that belonged to all three of them. His room felt strange now, for all that he knew the TARDIS had made it especially for him. Too quiet, too empty. He pulled the dark green duvet over himself, pressed his face into a pillow, and slept.

***

He felt much better when he woke, some three hours later. He sat up and frowned. He could tell from a subtle change in the hum of the TARDIS that he'd slept through dematerialization and they were now drifting through the vortex.

There was no use putting it off any longer, since it certainly wasn't going to get any easier. He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of black trousers, and mentally asked the TARDIS to help him find the Doctor and Rose.

He found them in the kitchen, sitting at the round table where they ate breakfast together every morning. They each had a mug of tea, and they did not, Jack thought, appear to be speaking when he came in. Just sitting.

Jack hovered in the doorway for a moment before clearing his throat. "Hi," he said, his voice startlingly small and uncertain in his own ears.

The two of them looked up. "Hullo," Rose said after a moment.

"You feeling better?" the Doctor asked, in a mild voice that Jack knew better than to trust.

"Yeah, thanks," Jack said. "Um. Is there any hot water left?"

Rose nodded. "Just about enough for one cup, I think. Help yourself."

Jack did. Then he sat at the table with his steeping tea and his hands curled around the mug, and tried to keep from hunching his shoulders like a naughty school boy. He'd fucked up and now he'd pay the consequences, whatever they were.

He had half-expected the Doctor to start interrogating him about where he'd been last night, but when seconds ticked by and neither of them said a word, he realized he'd have to do it. "I'm sorry," he said, staring down into his tea.

"For what?" the Doctor replied.

Jack swallowed. "I made a terrible mistake.” Rose sucked in a breath, and Jack tightened his grip on his mug.

"I need you to say what it was," the Doctor said, the deceptive mildness replaced now with a razor sharp edge.

"Doctor . . ." Rose said in a small voice.

"No, Rose," the Doctor said sharply. "He's going to sit here and tell us what he did."

"I think I'd prefer not to know the sordid details," Rose said. Her voice wavered toward the end, and Jack closed his eyes.

"He can skip the details, but he needs to tell us. Don't you, _Captain_?"

Jack gave up on trying not to hunch. "Yes," he said miserably. He drew a deep breath. "I went to a club. Someone started buying me drinks." It didn't matter, he decided, how many people it had been, and Rose would probably find that detail pretty damn sordid. "I got drunk and went home with them. We had sex." Rose made a noise like someone had punched her in the stomach, and though he didn't think it would help anything, Jack had to add, "I feel terrible about it. I wish I'd never done it. I'd give anything never to have done it."

"Then why did you?" Rose asked.

She sounded like she was a hairsbreadth away from crying; Jack forced himself to look at her. "I don't know," he said. "I was angry with the Doctor, but I wasn't that angry. I didn't think, I just . . . did it.” Maybe, he thought, that was just how he was. Maybe he couldn't do monogamy. He'd never really tried before, never seen the point, never had a partner who'd asked it of him. Now he had two, and he'd failed horribly.

"Was she pretty?”

"Rose," the Doctor said, reaching over to lay a hand on her arm.

"No, I want to know!" Rose snapped, sitting up straight. "Was she pretty?"

Jack knew better than to correct her assumption. "I don't remember," he said honestly.

"You don't _remember_?"

"I wasn't lying when I said I was drunk," Jack said, meeting her eyes. She stared back, unflinching and unforgiving despite her red, damp eyes. "I was _very_ drunk. It started out as flirting, that's all. And then . . ."

"And then," the Doctor said, in a tone of dark agreement.

No one spoke for nearly a minute, then. Jack could tell from Rose's breathing that she was crying, and he wanted more than anything to reach over and take her hand. But she was crying because of _him_. The last thing she'd want would be for him to try and comfort her. He'd said all he had the right to say: he'd made his confession and expressed his regret. He had no right to beg for their forgiveness.

The sound of Rose's chair scraping backward on the tile was loud in the small space after so much silence. "I'm going to have a bath," she announced shakily, and left.

The Doctor said nothing. Jack realized that his tea had steeped so long as to be undrinkable. He got up and poured it down the sink.

"I have to ask," the Doctor said, while Jack’s back was turned to him. "Did you ever leave your drink unattended?"

Jack shook his head. "No. I was drunk but so were they. I suppose none of us were really capable of giving consent by the end of the evening, but I don't think I was any less capable than they were."

"Right," the Doctor said, and then sighed. "I could just about kill you, Captain."

"I know," Jack said softly. "Me too."

"Rose was beside herself last night. When you didn't come back, she made me put a trace on your vortex manipulator."

Which would have shown him at the club, Jack realized, and then would have shown him _leaving_ the club. "Oh." Silently, he filled the kettle with water and flipped the switch for it to boil. "Anywhere with a breathable atmosphere is fine," he said, staring at the kettle. "Or not breathable. Either way."

The Doctor snorted. "Oh no," he said. "You're not taking the easy way out here."

Jack turned to look at him. "The easy way out?"

"Leaving would be the easy thing, wouldn't it? You'd never have to face Rose again. Never have to look her in the eye and know you hurt her. Never have to risk that she might not forgive you." The Doctor shook his head. "No, Captain. You're going to _stay_."

"Yes, sir," Jack said, almost automatically. The Doctor's statement had had the weight of a command behind it. "But what about you?” he asked, realizing that the Doctor had only mentioned Rose’s feelings, Rose’s forgiveness. “I hurt you, too."

"You did," the Doctor said. He stood up. Jack forced himself not to move, even when the Doctor invaded his personal space, crowding him against the kitchen counter. "You know me, Jack. I've a jealous streak a mile wide on my best days, and more than that, I hate seeing Rose cry. I'm bloody furious with you." He shook his head. "But I've done terrible things, truly terrible things that I can never hope to be forgiven for. What you did was a mistake. I believe you when you say you'd give anything not to have done it. Promise me it'll never happen again, and we’ll leave it behind us."

Jack hesitated. "I want to," he said, "but I've never done this before. Monogamy. What if I just _can't_?"

"You made a mistake, lad," the Doctor said, and Jack could have wept in relief to hear that endearment from him. "Don't make it mean more than it does already. Promise me."

"I promise," Jack said brokenly. "I promise it'll never happen again."

"Good lad," the Doctor said, and wrapped his arms around Jack, holding him hard. Jack buried his face in the Doctor's neck, clutching at his leather jacket, and swallowed against the lump in his throat. _I promise_ , Jack thought. He turned his head and kissed the Doctor, whose hold on him tightened until he almost couldn't breathe. _I promise, I promise._

Eventually the Doctor let him go, but Jack stayed leaning against him, his head on the Doctor's shoulder. "What about Rose?" he said, very quietly.

"That's between the two of you. I'd give her a bit of space, though, before you go rushing in."

Jack nodded. "Thanks, Doctor," he said, hoping the Doctor knew he meant far more than just the advice about Rose.

The Doctor shook his head. "If it happens again," he began darkly, and then stopped. "Well, you've already promised it won't."

Jack nodded. "It won’t, Doctor. Believe me.”

The Doctor laid his hand on the back of Jack's neck and pulled him in so that his forehead rested against the Doctor’s own. "Hush, lad. I do."

***

Jack decided to give Rose two hours. In the meantime, he forced himself to eat something, then sat alone in the kitchen with another cup of tea. The Doctor had wandered off, probably to tinker in the console room; Jack thought about joining him but wasn’t entirely sure he’d be welcome. Tinkering tended to be the Doctor’s equivalent of Rose having a bath, and Jack didn’t want to intrude. 

Finally, when he’d judged that enough time had passed, he stood up and methodically rinsed his cup out in the sink. He considered briefly taking some sort of peace offering - tea and biscuits, or maybe some flowers. But any hint of bribery or flattery could only hurt him, he decided, and so in the end he went empty-handed.

He paused in front of her door, drew a deep breath, and knocked. "Who is it?" she called.

Jack winced at the wariness in her voice. "It's me."

The door opened. Rose, clad in a bathrobe, slippers, and no make-up at all, with her hair a tangled, damp mass down her back, crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "What do you want? If you’re here to tell me you’re sorry, don’t bother. I know you're sorry."

Not an auspicious start, but Jack knew he deserved nothing better. "That,” he said, “and also that it will never happen again. Never. Please believe me, Rose."

She pressed her lips together. "Why should I?" She turned away before he could answer and sat down in front of her dressing table. She picked up a comb and dragged it through her damp hair. "Men who cheat once do it again, every time."

Jack stood rooted to the spot, unable to bring himself to step over the threshold. She hadn't shut the door in his face, but she hadn't invited him in, either. After a moment, he stepped inside the room, just inside. "What do you mean?"

She caught his eyes in the mirror. "What do you think I mean? Men who cheat _cheat_."

Jack frowned. "Who taught you that?"

She looked away. "My mum. Always had boyfriends when I was growing up. As far back as I can remember it was one bloke after another. A lot of them cheated. They always said they were sorry. Always said it'd never happen again. But it did."

Jack swallowed. "Rose . . ."

"I used to get so angry with her," Rose went on, laying her comb on her dressing table. "I thought it was mad to take them back after they'd cheated. But she always said she loved them, and this time it was different, it was just a mistake. He'd promised not to do it again." She turned to glare at him, a hardness in her eyes that Jack had never seen before. "I always said I wouldn't be like her. I didn't take Jimmy Stone back after he cheated on me. Why should I take you?"

Jack looked away. "Maybe you shouldn't. But . . ."

"But what?" Rose said, eyes narrowed.

"I know that this relationship is really different from what you're used to," Jack said, daring to take one more step into the room. "In a lot of ways. But it's really different for me, too."

She frowned again. "How so?"

"I've never been in a monogamous relationship before."

Her lips parted in surprise. "Ever?"

He shook his head. "Where I come from - when I come from - people have primary relationships, the person or people they're committed to, but real exclusivity is . . . unusual." It was considered old fashioned and slightly backward, actually, but he knew better than to say so. "What I did last night - well, it would've been considered bad form, because the Doctor and I argued beforehand, but . . ."

"But it wouldn't have been . . . cheating," she finished, slowly.

Jack nodded. "We don’t even really have the concept. But I know that I hurt you. I hurt the Doctor, too. No matter how you look at it, I violated the agreed parameters of our relationship, and I am very, very sorry. I hope you'll forgive me, but I understand if you can't." 

Rose didn't answer. After a moment, Jack saw her swipe at her eyes. "No, no," he said, because he couldn't stand that he'd made her cry again. He rushed into the room and dropped to his knees by her chair. "No, Rose, please. I'm not worth it."

"You are, though," she said thickly. Her hand landed in his hair, her fingers threading through the strands, and his breath caught in his throat. "You are worth it. Jimmy Stone - I, I knew he was a bloke like all my mum's boyfriends, who'd cheat again and again until I left him. But you're not like that, Jack. You're not. And I don't want to let you go over this."

"I don't want that either," Jack said, laying his head in her lap. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her knees. "I love you," he said, the first time any of them had said it aloud. He heard her gasp. "I love you, and I love the Doctor, and I love our life together, and it kills me that I put that in danger."

"It kills me, too," she said. "Do it again and the Doctor will be the least of your worries, yeah?"

Jack huffed out a shaky laugh. "Understood." He sat back to look up at her. There were tears on her face, but it wasn't until she reached down and rubbed her thumb over the arch of his cheek that he were realized his own face was damp. "I won't, Rose. You and the Doctor are all I need for as long as you'll have me."

"Good," she said, and leaned down to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her neck, and after a moment, she slid off the chair and into his lap. Jack pressed his face into her hair, breathing comfortably for the first time since he'd woken that morning.

They were still like that minutes later when the Doctor found them. He stopped, frowning down at them. "Why are you on the floor?"

Jack untucked his face from Rose's neck. "Seemed like as good a place to be as any."

"Silly apes," the Doctor said, but he slid down to sit between them all the same. He wrapped an arm around each of them and they leaned into him. Jack closed his eyes. It was fortunate, he thought, that he didn't believe in any sort of karmic system, because he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve either of his partners.

The Doctor was, predictably, the first of them to stir. Jack felt him draw breath to speak and tensed, just slightly, wondering if there was to be one last round of admonitions and promises not to do it again. But when the Doctor spoke, it was nothing like what Jack had expected. "What you said yesterday, Jack, about the stabilizers.”

Jack winced. The argument that had started it all. "Yeah?"

"I did some calculations this morning. I . . . might've been a bit quick to dismiss your idea."

To his credit, the Doctor only sounded a little grudging. "Really," Jack said.

"Might be." Rose let a small sound, not quite a giggle, escape. The Doctor glared at her. "Don't you start! All I'm saying is that Jack might've had a decent idea. It's been known to happen, even to members of your species on occasion."

Rose rolled her eyes. "What he means," she said to Jack, in a confidential tone, "is that he's sorry he insulted your intelligence, and he promises to try not to make specist assumptions from now on."

"Oi!"

"Thank you," Jack said, mostly to Rose but with a wink toward the Doctor. He hesitated, then added, "And -"

"Don't, lad," the Doctor interrupted. "You said you're sorry already. We know you mean it."

Jack nodded. "Okay."

"Good," the Doctor said, and pulled himself away and shoved himself up in one movement. "Now get dressed and come to the console room. I've a craving for ice cream, and I know just the planet."

Rose smiled. "Sometimes," she said to Jack, "even _he_ has a good idea."

"Oi!" the Doctor called from beyond the door. "I heard that! Time Lord ears here!"

Jack grinned, but he was looking at Rose. There was something still a bit forced about her smile, a bit strained around her eyes. "Rose, I - I'm really so -"

"Stop, Jack," she said, shaking her head. "The Doctor's right. You've already said you're sorry, and I believe you. Saying it again won't help. I just need -"

"Time," Jack said.

Rose nodded. "Yeah. Time. And right now," she added, "I could do with the universe's largest scoop of strawberry ice cream. With whipped cream and nuts."

"Your wish, m'lady," Jack said. He stood up and offered her a hand off the floor.

Rose ducked into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Jack stood in the middle of her room and felt a sudden, dizzying wave of emotion wash over him - relief, and gratitude, and an aching, almost physically painful love. He fumbled over to the bed and sat, like a puppet with all his strings cut. It had been a long time since Jack had been so loved; he had almost forgotten what it was like to be _forgiven_.

Things weren’t all right yet, not by a long shot, but they would be. Jack closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag. They would be. 

_Fin._


End file.
